War Days
by okh-eshivar
Summary: This is a series of raw war experiences, both humorous and terrifying, as seen through the eys of pre-Atlantis Helga Sinclair. Friends will be lost, mistakes will be made, and horrifying consequences will be suffered.
1. Victor Echo November

**A/N: This will be a series of short war stories as told by the experience of Lt. Helga Sinclair as she rose from the ranks. I realize that due to the time period, the chances she actually fought with troops is highly unlikely. Just roll with it. **

**Enjoy 3 **

"Code Zero three X-ray Niner. Victor. Echo. November. This will be a blackout drill, copy. All stations report to central in five. We're off at 0600, over."

Helga slammed the metal slab open, letting the hot summer air flood the sleeping quarters.

"Rack 'em and pack 'em ladies! You got ten minutes to put on your makeup and fix your hair, then report to roll call at central immediately!" The men woke with a start, fumbling with their sheets and jumping from their beds obediently, wincing into the sudden flush of light. They threw on uniforms, hot and moldering, ran clumsy fingers through sweat dampened hair and muttered tired greetings to their leader.

A soldier mumbled as he pulled his undershirt over his head. "The hell time is it? It's too early for this. And too hot."

Helga sighed and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. "You're telling me. I've been up for three hours already. Not that this damn heat lets anyone actually sleep." The soldier buttoned his uniform and smirked.

"No kidding."

His nametag read Schwarz. Anton Schwarz. The only other German in her squad. This similarity had formed a bond between the two of them, a slight comfort in the hecticness of these training days, war days.

They file out, enter into the blooming heat and begin their jog to central despite the exhaustion of tireless humidity. Anton remained close to the front of the mass, keeping pace with Helga.

"What's this about anyway? Drills usually don't take place this early," he spoke in hushed German, knowing that the others would disapprove of their quiet exchanges.

"I'm not sure this is a drill, Schwarz. It was a V.E.N call."

"Blackout? But we've hardly finished our field work."

"Everyone here has passed weapons training and basic. I guess they think that's enough."

"You sound uncertain. Which is highly unsettling."

She shot him a quick glance, a spark jumping from her blue eyes. "This is war, soldier. Nothing is certain."

He chuckled with a low tone, staring at his feet for only a split second.

"Indeed."


	2. Peaches

**A/N: This will be a series of short war stories as told by the experience of Lt. Helga Sinclair as she rose from the ranks. I realize that due to the time period, the chances she actually fought with troops is highly unlikely. Just roll with it. **

**Enjoy 3 **

"This fucking sucks." The soldier slapped a gloved hand against his helmet, releasing a cloud of compressed dirt into the air. For two weeks they had been huddled in these trenches, six to each, rat infested and hot.

"No shit."

"Hey, we got it lucky! We've got a beauty in our sleeping quarters, after all."

Helga snorted with a smirk, punching her bunk mate roughly on the shoulder. "Oh, fuck you, Smith. Close your mouth before you start swallowing flies." The others laughed heartily together, backs pressed against the dirt walls and heads covered from the damaging sun.

It was quiet for a few moments before Anton spoke.

"You know what I've really been craving?"

"A shower?"

"Sleep?"

"Sex?"

"No. Peaches."

"Peaches? Out of everything you want fuckin' peaches?"

"Yep. Fuckin' peaches. Fuckin' _canned_ peaches. The ones with the juice and molasses in them."

"Oh, god, shut up about food. I'm so hungry it's stupid. I just want to eat something that doesn't taste like rotten fruit." Helga moaned and slumped against the side of the trench, clutching her torso with bare arms. Her dirty t shirt slid up her body as her back slid down the wall, revealing a very toned abdomen. Her helmet climbed over her eyes, letting her long blonde hair slip from its loose grip.

"Careful, Sinclair. You're starting to look like a pin-up."

"Fuck yourself."

"He might just start if you keep it up." She chuckled, propping her AK-47 up next to her and pulling her leather gloves on snugly over her slim fingers.

Adams clutched his foot, cursing under his breath as he, very slowly, pulled the grafted boot from the limb. "Anyone got a clean knife?" Helga drew her hunting blade from its sheath on her right hip, flipping it in the air and handing him the hilt.

"Thanks, Lt."

He forced the tip into the rotting flesh of his big toe, beneath the nail. The wound hissed, releasing a putrid odor and pulsing with white pus; the nail popped off like a soda top, leaving the blackened and infected flesh exposed.

Adams sighed with relief as he drained the injury, smiling with twisted lips and closing his eyes.

"_Holy _mother of Mary that feels good."

Schwarz flinched away from the wound, the display disturbing him only slightly. Jenkins ignored the gore and withdrew a small cigarette pouch and a carton of matches from a pocket in his vest. He took two in his mouth, lit them both with a single match and handed one to the woman on his left. She received it gratuitously, inhaling a mouthful of nicotine with a certain femininity that hellholes like this often lacked.

"Thanks."

"No problem. You look like you could use it."

Adams eyed her cautiously. "I thought you quit?"

She smirked into the smoke's delicate choreography. "So did I."

"Lousy fuckin' time to try, I guess."

"Yeah…" She clutched her weapon absently, sliding the magazine gauge out of the intake then back in again, cocking its safety in the process. "…No shit."

That night they huddled together, the freezing air hardening their thin blankets and arresting uncovered limbs. However close they came, how tightly their bodies were pressed to her, none of the men laid hands on the strong blonde in the center of the group. They respected her too much. They feared her as well, but none of them would ever admit it.


End file.
